The Hunt
by Maglor's finch
Summary: A man known to be a werewolf is seen near a village before the rise of the full moon. Werewolf catchers set out to capture him, joined by Harry. But what is Lupin doing there? Set in the ficverse of Once a Werewolf. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**THE HUNT**

_This story is AU and set in my Once a Werewolf universe. It probably makes more sense if you've read that one. But in case you haven't and are going to read on anyway: the premise is, that Remus Lupin, the werewolf, died during the Battle of Hogwarts and came back to life as a normal human being, no longer afflicted by lycanthropy. He went to live with Andromeda Tonks to help her take care of Teddy and ultimately married her. Together they have a daughter named Irene. _

_Unfortunately, Remus is unable to prove he is no longer a werewolf: among other things, the proof demands that he take the Wolfsbane Potion, which is fatal to non-werewolves. Under the new Minister of Magic Shacklebolt, though, most of Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation has been repealed and Remus is currently working for the Werewolf Support Services at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Beings. Harry Potter is an Auror. _

Disclaimer: JKR wrote the HP originals. This is just a fanfic.

&&&&&&

**Part One**

**0.**

Rory Whitaker left the supermarket with a six-pack of beer and two packets of crisps when he saw the man leaning against the lamppost. He was dressed in a shabby raincoat and frayed trousers, and he looked vaguely familiar. 'Hello Rory,' he said. 'Long time no see.'

Rory must have looked puzzled, for the man said: 'You don't remember me.' He bared his teeth in a grin. 'I used to live here when you were a kid - before my wife chucked me out with the garbage. I remember you riding your first bike along this very road. And now you're going out with my daughter, I hear.'

'Eunice.' Rory smiled dreamily. 'I did. I mean, I still want to, but she's at that boarding school of hers, somewhere in Scotland. They're very stern there - she has to sneak out to make calls. But we'll be seeing each other soon, when she returns home for Christmas break. She'll be visiting me the same evening.'

'You know what girls like?' Eunice's father looked up at the sky. 'Romantic walks in the moonlight. My wife did, when she was young. Ah, those were times. A pity some things don't work out. I wish you better luck with my daughter. Cheers!' His gaze on the six-pack, he raised his hand in a mock toast.

'Thanks.' Rory hesitated. 'Want a beer?' He didn't wait for the answer, but tore a can from the six-pack and tossed it to the shabby man.

The man caught it in one hand; his reflexes were good. 'You're a fine boy, Rory,' he said almost sadly.

**1. **

Early in the evening of 19 December 2002, the two Aurors on duty in the Ministry of Magic received an urgent Floo call from a witch in Wiltshire. Her name was Lamia Leach, and she claimed she had seen a werewolf near her village. On hearing this the senior Auror, Vigilia Mottlee, exchanged a look with the junior Auror, Harry Potter. As it was twenty minutes to seven and the full moon wouldn't be up until eleven past, the sighting seemed premature.

When Mottlee pointed this out to the caller, Mrs. Leach admitted that the werewolf had been in his human form when she spotted him. However, she had recognised the creature from pictures in the Daily Prophet, and she knew who it was: the notorious Remus J. Lupin. If Lupin was out so shortly before moonrise, his intentions could hardly be benign. She was of the opinion he must be hunted down and apprehended before he could inflict any damage to proper human beings.

Mottlee thanked the witch for her timely warning. Mrs. Leach's head disappeared from the flames. Turning to his colleague, Harry Potter remarked that he was sure Mr. Lupin was the very last person in the Wizarding World who would want anyone to receive a werewolf bite. There was no need to panic: Lupin would most certainly not remain in the open if he were about to transform. They couldn't even be sure it was him Mrs. Leach had seen; what if she had mistaken someone else for Lupin?

Vigilia Mottlee eyed him sternly. It was a well-known fact that Harry Potter was Mr. Lupin's friend and it spoke well of him that he trusted a friend to behave responsibly. All the same, he ought not to let personal feelings interfere with his Auror duties. It was plain and simple: in his capacity of magical law officer he was obliged to act on a warning like this. She proposed that they inform the Werewolf Capture Unit and ask them to send their people to Wiltshire and search for Lupin until moonrise - after which they would be searching for the werewolf. For Mr. Potter's friend's sake, she hoped they would be able to catch him in time - it was well known that not all werewolves survived capture. As it was a quarter to seven, they would have to be quick.

Potter, however, objected. 'Let's make a Floo call to Remus Lupin's house first,' he suggested. 'If Remus is at home, there's no need to waste the time of the Werewolf Capture Unit.'

This, Mottlee had to admit, was a reasonable proposal.

About half a minute later, Harry Potter's bespectacled head appeared in the fireplace of the Mudhole, where the Lupins lived. Andromeda was sitting on the sofa, reading a bedtime story to the children, Teddy and Irene. She was mildly surprised at his appearance; the two toddlers clambered from the sofa to bounce up and down excitedly, shouting his name. When Harry finally got around to ask if Remus was in, Andromeda shook her head. 'He said he'd be home late today, probably not before eight o' clock, maybe even later.'

She smiled knowingly. It was eleven minutes to seven.

Four minutes later, the people from the Werewolf Capture Unit summoned by Mottlee arrived to ask about the details of the sighting. There were three of them, two wizards and a witch, fully prepared, two of them equipped with magical nets. Provided with the necessary information, they made to go. At that point Potter asked if he could accompany them. Not as Lupin's friend of course, merely as a Junior Auror who could use a little experience in these no longer quite so eventful times.

The werewolf captors and Mottlee eyed him suspiciously, but he remained the Man Who Lived Twice. It was difficult to refuse his request. They took him along.

It was three minutes to seven; fourteen minutes left to moonrise.

**2.**

In Bentley Wood, not far from the village of Buckholt, a man awaited moonrise. He crouched among the brittle leaves of autumn, shivering and peering into a darkness soon to penetrated by pale rays slanting freely through the bare branches of winter.

Not many people would venture outside in the December cold, but it was early in the evening, and some would be bound to leave their homes. The majority of the villagers were defenceless Muggles, but he knew that a few of them were wizards and witches.

_She_ was living there. _They_ were. They had to be near, and tonight was the night when he would find them.

Though he had sold his watch long ago to buy food, he knew that moonrise was near; his skin prickled in a familiar way and his senses seemed to be sharpening. Even in the dark, the trees were more than vague shadows. His ears caught the difference between the rustling of the wind through the layers of dead leaves on the forest floor, and the restless scurrying of tiny, living creatures. And if he breathed in slowly through his nose, he could smell it, faintly but unmistakeably: the scent of blood.

**3.**

The solitary walker sat down on a tree stump by the roadside, watching the white puff of his breath dissolve in the cold air. He checked his watch by the light of his wand. One past seven. Ten minutes to moonrise - too early to return to the village and make his call. He would wait another five minutes; it was a short walk and the moon had to be visible when he arrived, or his visit would be pointless. Or mostly so. Lamia Leach could do with a verbal thrashing in any case.

The wind tugged at his clothes and pulled at the branches of the trees behind him. He heard them gnarl and groan in protest amongst the swishing boughs of the evergreens and the brittle leaves whispering on the ground. The sounds were not reassuring. He rose and turned, his shining wand outstretched to shine on the nearest trees. They loomed tall and forbidding, guardians of their own secrets, and the blackness beyond was impenetrable to his human eyes.

A short, dry noise in the distance caught his ear. A snapping twig perhaps, he thought. It had seemed to come from the direction of the village, though he wasn't entirely sure. Then he heard it again, a kind of crack, closer by now, and then again, and suddenly he knew what it was.

Quickly, he murmured 'Nox', and his wand light went out. He could only think of one reason why wizards would Apparate here. Someone had seen him and alerted the authorities.

**4.**

In a house at the edge of the village, Eunice was having a heated discussion with her mother. The seventh year Gryffindor wanted to visit her boyfriend, a Muggle named Rory. He lived at a farm, a quarter mile outside Buckholt, not far from the main road. The last time they had seen each other was the day before the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross Station, about six weeks after their first date. They had phoned each other a few times - the cell phone she had bought during the summer vacation actually worked on the very outskirts of Hogsmeade - but today was the first day of Christmas break and they couldn't wait to meet in the flesh again.

'But the moon is full tonight,' her mother objected. 'It'll be up any minute now, and I know there's a werewolf on the loose. And why, for Merlin's sake, do you insist on dating a Muggle?'

'The moon is not up yet, and I'll take my broom.' Eunice shrugged off her mother's beseeching hand. 'Also, I'm of age, I can Apparate, I'm good at Defence, and you're always seeing moon frogs everywhere. I've got every right to visit my boyfriend, and if you object against him, you must be a pure-blood maniac.' At Hogwarts, this invective was getting old, but her mother was properly outraged and raised her wand.

However, Eunice was a forceful young woman, quick on the draw. Her mother's half-hearted restraining hex bounced on a swiftly cast Shield charm. Quickly Eunice left the house, wand in one hand, broomstick in the other, looking forward to what had to be the tryst of the year.

It was seven past seven, four minutes to moonrise.

**5. **

The people of the Werewolf Capture Unit gathered at the edge of the woods, only a few yards from the road running past it. 'He was walking towards Bentley Wood,' Lamia Leach had said. Apparently, he planned to transform there, but the Wood was too close to the inhabited world. The thickset werewolf catcher without a net, Batthew, neatly transfigured his clothes into the uniform of a Muggle please-man. He left to intercept anyone trying to leave the nearby village of Buckholt without a car. Batthew was the only one among the werewolf catchers officially licensed to Obliviate Muggles.

The second wizard, an intrepid young man named Gameworthy, proposed to venture into the Wood, as the werewolf was most likely hiding there for his transformation. Among the trees and bushes, it would be easier to catch. The witch, called Scaddie, preferred to try and draw the creature out; surely it would get wind of them anyway. In the open, she argued, they'd have a better view. Having little experience with this kind of thing, Harry didn't know which idea was better. The two were still arguing when Gameworthy suddenly fell silent in the midst of a sentence. He pointed at the horizon beyond where the road turned to the right.

'Look. The moon is rising,' he said.

Somehow, it was both a beautiful and a chilling sight, Harry thought, seeing the point of light just above the horizon expand, slowly but steadily. At the moment, it was still small, but before long it would turn into a gleaming orb, which would slowly disengage itself from the dark mass of the earth to make its dignified ascent to the heavens. It would suffuse the sky with its deceptively innocent glow, bright enough to give anything a shadow, dim enough to keep everything a mystery. And cruel enough to turn some unfortunates into monsters.

A sound shook him out of his reveries. It came from somewhere in the woods and it was hair-raising: an inhuman, tortured wail that changed while they listened and ended in the drawn-out, furious howl.

The howl of a werewolf.

'Lupin,' hissed Scaddie.

_No_, Harry protested silently. _Impossible._

**6.**

The first minutes of their reunion were entirely dedicated to hugging and kissing, but when they ran out of breath, they took a small step back to devour each other all over again with their eyes. Rory smiled and told her once more how beautiful she was and how much he had missed her - though certainly no more than Eunice had missed him, as she assured him.

Laughing softly, he gestured at something behind her. 'Look,' he said, and she turned to see the treetops in the southern part of Bentley Wood lined by an eerie, white sheen. 'The moon is up. Soon, it'll rise above the trees. Shall we go out for a walk in the moonlight?' he asked, proving himself the greater romantic of the two.

A slight frown marred Eunice's brow, otherwise glowing and beautiful like the moon. 'But its cold.' The mist of breath leaving her mouth did its best to underline her words.

The cold wouldn't bother them half as much if they walked arm in arm, her boyfriend pointed out, smiling so adorably and knee-weakeningly that she simply had no choice but to capitulate. That was, if she could bring her broom.

Rory was momentary baffled at the idea of a girl bringing a broom to a tryst with her boyfriend. Was she a Wiccan, or something? He wasn't into New Age stuff at all.

When he opened his mouth to reply, a strange kind of yowl in the distance cut him short. It was long and chilling and definitely made by an animal.

'What the blazes was that?' he cried. He didn't think he'd ever heard a dog howl like that.

Eunice bit her lip. 'A wolf.'

'No, it must have been a dog. Probably one in pain. There are no wolves in Britain. '

'I wouldn't be so sure.'

Rory stared at his girlfriend, who had a knowledgeable look in her eyes. Broomsticks, and wolves... Suddenly he got the unnerving feeling he didn't know her at all.

He shook it off. 'Okay. Let's go and see then; if it's a dog in need, maybe we can help. I'll get a torch from the tool shed, and the rifle. Just an air gun, but it'll do.' He grinned. 'You get your broomstick, and if it's the big bad wolf, we'll have at it. You game?'

Whether she believed he was taking her seriously or not, she took him by his word. 'I'm game, if you are.' She put a hand in her pocket and he saw it turn into a fist, as if she was gripping something

**7.**

To his annoyance the remaining wizards, two dressed in dragon skin with nets slung across their shoulders and one in a cloak, were barring his way to the village. They were standing too close to the road he had planned to take and it would be impossible to get past them without being seen. He squinted. In the clear, cold air the light of the newly risen moon was getting brighter with the minute; he could almost see their faces. One of the wizards was a witch, he saw. And the one with the cloak looked very familiar, his hair ruffled worse than ever in the evening breeze. _I'll be damned if it isn't Harry._

He smiled to himself. Lamia Leach could wait. Harry Potter and a couple of fellow Aurors, or whatever they were, was much better.

At the sound of an approaching car, they withdrew into the trees. He didn't stir from the spot; his presence wouldn't mean anything to Muggles. When the car had vanished into the night, the three appeared again. They were looking his way now, but he sat motionless, half in, half out of the shadows, in a drab, nondescript cloak. They showed no signs of having seen him. Should he rise and approach them?

At the sudden, unexpected screaming of a werewolf in the process of transformation, his head jerked up. The screams turned to howls. He cringed. He knew what he was going to do when coming face to face with a transformed werewolf who hadn't taken the Wolfsbane Potion, but that didn't mean he liked it. Again, he studied the outfits of Harry's companions, and belatedly, it dawned on him what they were.

Werewolf catchers.

In past times he would have fled, even in the brightest daylight. Even now, part of him wanted to Disapparate. But he was a man, no longer a wolf, and therefore not at fault when he wished to roam about during the full moon - except perhaps for being reckless and stupid. He would not run from them.

They had seen him, he noticed. The male werewolf catcher pointed at him, and Harry and the woman peered into his direction.

Remus Lupin pulled up the hood of his cloak, rose and ambled towards them in the moonlight.

(TBC)


	2. Chapter 2

**THE HUNT**

**Part Two**

_A/N: There will be more Andromeda in the next & last chapter_

_Warning: evil cliffhanger_

**8.**

The nightly wanderer was a middle-aged man sporting a moustache and a beard, and wearing a drab and slightly worn cloak with a hood. Scaddie stepped onto the road to inform him that he was in grave danger.

With lightning speed the man pulled a wand and pointed it at her. 'What's this, now? A hold-up?' he said in a hoarse voice. 'I'm carrying the impressive amount of one Sickle and three Knuts, but even so I'd rather not part with it.'

Relieved that they were indeed dealing with a wizard, the werewolf catchers told him to lower his wand. It wasn't them he should fear, but the werewolf lurking in the woods. 'Why did you go out for a stroll in a night like this?

'Why not?' was the frivolously unconcerned retort. When faced with a threat, there was always the possibility of Disapparating. But were they sure the howling animal wasn't a dog?

Gameworthy and Scaddie exchanged an exasperated look. People like this were the bane of every werewolf catcher's existence.

It was Harry Potter who answered. 'A notorious werewolf was seen here in his human form, shortly before moonrise,' he explained. 'One Remus Lupin; I'm sure you have heard the name?'

For some reason, the wanderer seemed to consider this funny. 'I have,' he replied, 'but to my best knowledge Lupin is a well-mannered wizard, who has never bitten anyone in his life and is certainly not about to start tonight.'

At this, Potter smirked, but the werewolf catchers failed to see the humour of it. 'Do us all a favour, sir, and go home,' Scaddie said. 'I'm sure Lupin forgot all his good manners just now, when he transformed.'

'I'm not as defenceless as you seem to think,' the wanderer told them. 'If you're here to catch him, I could be of assistance to you.'

At that moment, the werewolf in the woods gave another howl, long and piercing, as if to say this prospect was not to its liking. Night birds added their raw calls to his. Gameworthy and Scaddie put their heads together for a brief conference. There was no time to remove the moustached fool by force, and they couldn't just stun him and leave him behind for the monster to bite. His preposterous offer to help them wasn't worth discussing, so they merely told him he would stay at his own risk; the consequences would be on his head alone. Also, they would thank him not to be in their way.

He shrugged, still looking mildly amused.

They turned to the woods. Time to move.

**9.**

While the werewolf catchers were talking, Harry turned to Lupin, remarking in a low voice that the facial hair wasn't much of a disguise. It was surprising that the werewolf catchers, who worked in the same department as Remus, hadn't recognised him.

'They don't expect to see the man tonight, instead of the monster,' came the soft reply. 'Besides, many people never even look straight at my face, and I'm wearing a hood. I trust this little glamour is enough to turn me into a stranger.'

'And the risk? "Once bitten, always shy" does not apply to you, Remus?'

'Well, I didn't know there would be a real werewolf on the loose tonight, but I meant what I said. I could be useful. And I'm supposed to be a reckless Gryffindor, or so I'm told. You're one to tell me about risks, Harry.'

Harry grinned. It wasn't as if he had shied away from this expedition. He was actually looking forward to the hunt, not in the last place because he might be in a position to interfere when the quarry was in danger of getting killed.

After Gameworthy and Scaddie had held their little sermon to an unimpressed Lupin, the four of them stepped beneath the eaves of the Wood. By way of compromise, they would stay close to the edge. The two werewolf catchers moved noiselessly, and so did Lupin. Harry felt as big as Hagrid and as clumsy as Tonks when little twigs seemed to snap under his feet with every step. After a dozen yards though, the sounds suddenly ceased.

Scaddie looked back. 'About time, Potter!'

Harry glanced at Lupin and saw his teeth gleam. 'A useful little spell,' his old professor whispered, showing his wand. 'I'm surprised they didn't teach it to you during Auror training.'

In the dark, Harry blushed. They _had_ taught him how to walk silently. He realised he was more scared than he'd let on even to himself.

Gameworthy halted abruptly. 'What's that? Up ahead and to our right?'

'A light,' Lupin replied at once. 'Muggle, I think.'

Scaddie hadn't seen it, nor had Harry, who had been looking at his feet. But they all agreed that if someone had lit a lamp out there, they had to be warned quickly.

**10.**

The agony of the transformation had finally ebbed away. The werewolf stood on a knoll in the woods, grey muzzle lifted, sniffing the crisp air. The human blood was not far away, the smell tantalising. His big maw watered; his heart pounded furiously in his wide chest.

But the blood was pulling at him from two different sides. It was maddening. Again he howled, screaming out his frustration. Night birds took to the air, some of them screeching.

Mindlessly he leaped down the knoll, his body deciding for him. It carried him away from the unforgiving face of the moon above the trees. Needles of moonlight stabbed at his back to egg him on. There was no escape, and blood was the only cure for the pangs that tore him apart.

**11.**

They were less than hundred yards from the eaves of Bentley Wood, and the dog or whatever it was had just howled again. Rory switched on the torch to shine among the nearest trees, but to his surprise, Eunice wanted him to put it out again.

'What's wrong with a bit of extra light?' he asked.

There was a troubled gleam in her lovely brown eyes. 'It'll draw the w... the animal. And you'll need both your hands to use the rifle. The moon is bright enough to see by.'

Apparently she was convinced there was a wolf out there, or a rabid dog. Rory was not, but he saw no reason not to accommodate her. It was true enough that he couldn't handle the rifle and hold the torch at the same time, and he would cut a fine figure holding a weapon at the ready.

He handed her the torch. She put it out immediately. Shouldering the rifle, Rory aimed it at the largest gap in the line of trees. The bushes beyond stood starkly outlined against the eerie moonlight, bare branches grasping at the air like claws.

He felt Eunice's hand grab his arm. 'What's that noise?' she whispered.

Rory frowned, lowering the rifle. Deeper inside the woods, something seemed to be crashing through the shrubbery. He looked aside and his frown became a furrow. Eunice had shoved the torch into her pocket and the broomstick was sticking out from between her legs now, as if she was about to fly away to the next Witches' Sabbath. Her left hand was wrapped tightly around the handle, her right was holding a kind of stick. _Her magic wand..._ He snorted, disappointed more than anything. She _was_ a New Age freak. And she had seemed so... well, strong-minded.

'Hey there!'

The voice, male and urgent, seemed to rise out of Bentley Wood, further to the south. They turned their heads, peering into the direction from which the shout had come. A figure disengaged itself from the shadows of the trees and began to wave at them with rather frantic gestures.

'Here,' the voice shouted. 'Come! You're in grave danger!' The figure began to run to where Eunice and he were standing, followed by several others.

'This is the please speaking,' another voice boomed suddenly. 'Do as we say!'

This voice was not coming from the edge of the Wood. It came from the direction of the village, and wheeling towards it, Rory did see a police cap on the head of the newcomer approaching through the fields. So maybe there _was_ a wolf. Or a rabid dog. The rustling and snapping in the woods was impossible to overhear now. 'Let's run,' he said to Eunice.

She remained motionless, staring at the sky behind the police cap. Following her gaze, Rory gasped.

There was a witch flying on a broomstick across the fields of the Whitaker farm in the light of the full moon. The world itself had turned New Age.

The next instant, that same world came crashing down around him. 'Eunice!' the witch screamed. 'Fly home. Now!'

'No, mother!' his girlfriend shouted defiantly. 'I'm not leaving Rory!'

**12.**

The two young people were still more than hundred yards away from anyone else, including the girl's mother on her broomstick, when the werewolf broke out of the trees.

The Muggle whirled and took aim with his rifle.

'Stop!' Remus shouted. 'Don't shoot! You can't harm it that way. You'll only enrage it further!' He ran towards the young couple, hoping the wolf would be within wand range when it reached them. The others were running as well, except for Batthew, who was too far away to get there in time. The witch on the broom kept hovering at a safe distance, wailing thinly.

The young man ignored the warning, and the loud crack of his shot split the air. His aim was not bad; the werewolf skidded to a halt, yelping, biting vainly at its own chest for a couple of moments. Then it was on the move again, snarling, slavering, it's eyes seeming to glow with an unholy light.

The rifle went up again, but now it was the girl who shouted. 'Stop!' She grabbed the barrel and pulled it down. 'Get behind me on my broom!'

'Do as she says!' Batthew bellowed further down the field; the rest of them had to save their breath. Harry and Gameworthy were getting ahead. Remus cursed inwardly, fearing that Harry had no idea how to handle a werewolf.

The Muggle boy ignored both his girlfriend and Batthew; he was too busy trying to free his rifle from the girl's grasp. Harry fired a Stunner at the werewolf. He was just out of range, but the red jet of light caught the wolf's attention. It slowed down and turned its head. _Good!_ Remus thought, hoping it would change course now.

It didn't. It pursued its course towards the two young people, getting closer and closer. Gameworthy fired a spell of his own.

It was green; so much for the new regulations implemented earlier that year... Remus swore again, though the Avada Kedavra missed the target. Why wasn't he younger and faster? The werewolf was still to far away for him - or was it? Besides, Harry was in the way.

Harry aimed his wand again, and shouted 'Stupefy.'

A ripple seemed to go through the animal's body. A howl of outrage followed, and this time the wolf did stop - and turned towards Harry - and gathered itself -

'Step aside, Harry!' Remus cried hoarsely. The son of James Potter was almost close enough for the werewolf to reach him in one leap.

The boy and the girl were still tugging at the rifle. Gameworthy readied his net, while Scaddie, also hindered by Harry, started to make a berth around the young wizard, her wand raised. Remus didn't think she'd be in time.

The werewolf leaped, teeth flashing, and Harry cast another stunner. But at the same moment, Gameworthy jerked him aside and together they tumbled to the ground in a heap. Scaddie screamed and fired, but the jet of green light passed underneath the attacking animal.

The werewolf landed directly in front of Remus.

(TBC)


	3. Chapter 3

**THE HUNT**

**Part Three and last**

**12, continued**

Remus held his wand steady and fired his charm silently, hoping with all his heart it would work.

A pale blue light, only slightly more intense than that of the moon, enveloped the wolf. It froze in mid-leap and seemed to hover in the air for one endless moment. Then it dropped to the ground with a thud, writhing and trashing in agony. It began to transform, faster than any werewolf had ever changed back into a man at moonset.

Remus cringed; he wished this hadn't been necessary. And the poor man's ordeal was far from over yet. His only excuse was, that it was better than killing him.

Everyone turned and stared. Scaddie was the first to regain her presence of mind. With a sweeping gesture she threw her net at the writhing form. It draped itself over a human body, with small, trickling wounds in his chest.

Gameworthy raised his wand again, looking as if he was about to cast another Killing Curse.

**13.**

'No way.' Harry had scrambled to his feet. 'Expelliarmus!' Gameworthy's wand flew right into his hand.

'Are you mad?' Gameworthy shouted.

'He's human again,' Harry pointed out. 'And he seems to be out cold.' He felt a little ridiculous for storming ahead without knowing precisely what he was going to do.

'For how long?' Gameworthy asked, adding his own net to Scaddie's for good measure.

'Long enough.' Lupin's voice seemed to come from far away. He stood gazing at the man in the grass with eyes full of sympathy. 'After a while he'll change back into a werewolf and regain consciousness, unless you cast a few Stunners at his head. Then you'll be able to take him away and lock him up. Tomorrow he'll have a beastly headache, alas, along with the wounds from the rifle.'

'What spell was that?' asked Harry.

'The Homorphus charm,' replied Lupin.

'What? But that doesn't work!' Scaddie said. 'I tried it once. It's a sham.' She sounded angry. Of course she did - it had to be galling to see someone successfully perform a spell you were incapable of. Harry had always thought Lockhart had made the charm up. Apparently, he hadn't.

'Then it was some other charm that had the same effect,' Lupin replied placidly. 'I told you I could be of assistance.'

Harry would have liked to laugh, but he decided to save his hilarity for the moment the werewolf catchers would discover who it was that had done their job.

Scaddie seemed about to make a retort when they heard a gasp. The girl had crossed to where the unconscious, retransformed werewolf lay. She was staring down at him. Then she raised her face, staring at no one in particular, and Harry could see tears glisten on her cheeks.

'Dad,' she said, uncomprehendingly. 'That's my dad. My dad's a werewolf. He would have...' She faltered.

'Eunice!' said a woman's voice. The witch on her broomstick had flown closer, though even now she did not land. 'Get away from there.'

The girl turned on her with a vicious movement. 'You lied to me!' she cried. 'All those years you kept the truth from me. You made me loathe and despise werewolves while my own father is one. I hate you, mother!' And turning her back to the hovering witch, she ran to her boyfriend, who was staring at the scene with a horrified expression on his face.

**14.**

He must be having a nightmare. Either that, or a hallucination. Eunice's mother wasn't really flying a broom, the rabid dog hadn't really turned into a man whom Eunice had just claimed to be her father, and those others were speaking a foreign language, not spouting gibberish. Nor had they been waving sticks emitting weird jets of light.

Rory gazed at the rifle in his hand, wishing he could be proud of his excellent aim. If that rabid dog was really Eunice's father, she wouldn't thank him for pumping his chest full of pellets. Was he dead? He was lying very still. _But that wasn't me. He ran on after my shot. _It couldn't have been him, could it?

Eunice was shouting at her mother now. Shouting at her witch mother about her father being a werewolf. And she was such a lovely girl. _I wish we'd gone inside, instead of making a walk..._

He froze. Her father - he'd met her father, a few weeks ago, outside the supermarket... _You know what girls like? Romantic walks in the moonlight._

The bastard. The filthy bastard. Steeling himself, he started towards the others, just as Eunice turned and ran towards him. 'Rory...' There was a pleading note in her voice, and she was crying. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you yet. About the Wizarding World. I was going to, really. Please believe me -'

Rory shook his head and told her there was no need to apologise. 'Before tonight, I wouldn't have believed you anyway, so that's all right. But, eh, I've got something to tell you. About your... your father.' He gazed past her at the man - beast? - lying in the field. 'Those weird folks over there may want to know, too.' He hesitated. 'You're not going to like it.'

Together, they joined the others. Eunice's mother was watching avidly how the two types in the odd looking suits, a man and a woman, secured the net around the wolf-man. A young bloke with glasses, slightly older than Rory himself, followed the procedure closely. Like Eunice, he was holding a stick in his hand. The bloke in the hood was standing apart, observing the scene.

'Eh,' Rory began, but before he could say more, the fellow with the police cap finally reached them. His uniform was peculiarly old-fashioned, though, and he was also holding a stick. Which he was pointing it at Rory and Eunice right now.

'Hey!' Rory said nervously. 'I'm harmless.' He secured the rifle. 'I don't shoot at people. Just at, er, werewolves.' And the occasional rabbit, but that was none of their business.

'I'm afraid that's not the point, sir,' the fake officer told him. 'Nothing wrong with self-defence. But I have to wipe your memory. You're not supposed to remember this.'

Who the hell did he think he was? 'Oh, really?' Rory asked with all the haughtiness he could muster, though he was not in the habit of acting the country squire. 'Then I suppose you aren't interested in what I've got to tell you about your... captive.'

'But we are,' said the young bloke with the glasses, looking up. 'Would you please wait a moment, Mr. Batthew?' He smiled at Rory. 'I'm all ears.'

'If you promise not to wipe my memory,' Rory replied, frowning. 'That's just not done, you know.'

**15.**

Harry Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding World, nowadays a famous Auror, agreed with the Muggle boy - and that settled it.

Remus chuckled softly. He usually loved it when Muggles got the better of wizards.

He didn't chuckle anymore when Rory finished talking. The werewolf had planned to bite his own daughter and perhaps her boyfriend as well, and only the presence of the catchers had prevented this drama from happening. What a strange coincidence that he, Remus Lupin, former werewolf, had picked this particular night to give Lamia Leach, the rabid werewolf hater, the scare of a lifetime.

The werewolf they had caught was Lamia's husband and Eunice's father. And the girl had never been told what her father was. Remus could only guess what must have happened: the husband thrown out after he'd been bitten, the mother refusing to tell her child the reason why, but living in constant fear that he would be back and hating all werewolves for what one of them might do. And the husband and father in his turn had wanted to get back at his wife by taking their daughter and bite her. That way, Eunice would be his alone. A perfect revenge.

A horrible tale of bias, superstition and hatred.

The shrill voice of Lamia Leach tore him from his musings. '... always knew he was no good. I _knew_ why I kept you in the dark about him,' she was saying pleadingly to the daughter who had just told her off in no uncertain terms. 'Do you understand, now? Please tell me you understand!'

Eunice merely glared at her.

As if seeking support, Lamia turned to the others. 'A good thing I Flooed the Ministry to tell them about Lupin...'

She fell silent. The werewolf catchers stared at her, and then at her husband, suddenly looking troubled.

Of course. They'd all forgotten about the infamous Lupin, who had to be somewhere in the vicinity and remained sadly uncaught, so far. Everyone except Harry began to look around with various degrees of fear and watchfulness, including the young Muggle. The next moment though, Gameworthy's face split in a grin. He pointed at Remus. 'Let's not get nervous, now. The gentleman here knows how to deal with Lupin, it seems. Don't you, sir?'

'I'm not sure he does,' Remus replied slowly.

'But I thought...' Gameworthy stammered. 'The Homorphus charm... You made it work... didn't you?'

'Oh, if it were a matter of the Homorphus charm, it would be easy.' Remus removed his hood and tapped his face with his wand to lift the glamour. 'But dealing with yourself can be incredibly hard.'

Harry's budding grin froze and withered.

Lamia Leach screeched in a very gratifying way and tried to take off on her broom, but Batthew cast a full body bind on his witness, and she thudded to the ground.

Gameworthy gaped.

Eunice Leach wasn't paying attention; her eyes were on her father. She looked small, a child lost in the wintry dark. Rory Whitaker was obviously out of his depths, but none of the others paid any attention to him.

Scaddie looked from the presumed werewolf standing before them to the one lying at her feet and back again. 'How did you do it, Lupin? Did you cast Homorphus on yourself?' she asked, her eyes narrowed, as if she expected him to change in to a monster any moment.

'I would have, if paws were fit to hold wands,' he replied with a stony face. 'As it is, I simply didn't transform when the moon rose.'

'He hasn't been a werewolf since the Battle of Hogwarts,' Harry informed the catchers.

'Impossible,' sputtered Gameworthy. His gaze strayed to the moon. It was balancing on the treetops of Bentley Wood now, cold, radiant, unconcerned about the affairs of the insects crawling below. 'There is no cure for the werewolf curse, except death.'

'True enough,' Remus admitted, realising he must sound strangely detached, and that only Harry knew why.

'I warn you Lupin, we're going to get to the bottom of this,' Batthew growled. 'This is unheard of; how do we know there isn't some kind of trick involved.'

Apparently, the only thing worse than a werewolf who changed into a monster every month, was a werewolf who didn't change into a monster every month, Remus thought wryly.

'Take it easy,' he said. 'As far as I know I'm a case apart. You're not in danger of losing your job anytime soon.'

'How dare you -' Batthew began.

At that moment, the man in the nets began to stir. 'He's changing back,' Scaddie hissed.

'Look the other way, Eunice,' Remus said, and moving forward, he put an arm around the girl's shoulders to turn her away from the sight of her father's beginning agony. Then he tapped Rory on the shoulder. 'You'd better look away as well.' To his relief, the young man did as he was told, pulling Eunice against him when Remus let go of her.

Slowly Remus turned back. The first howl rent the air.

**16.**

'You're late,' Andromeda remarked when Remus returned home at twenty minutes to nine, but she smiled, for it didn't matter. 'The kids are in bed; they were a bit disappointed you weren't at home for dinner and wanted to wait, but it was getting too late.'

'I'm sorry about that.' He kissed her, taking care to do it exactly under the spot where she'd hung the mistletoe. 'But there were... complications.'

'Lamia Leach got a heart attack when you showed up on her doorstep under the full moon?'

For a moment she thought he was going to say 'no such luck', but he only shook his head. 'Worse.'

While she made him dinner, Remus recounted the interesting events of that evening, his eyes on the Christmas star decorating the window. He finished by telling her why he was so late: Batthew, Gameworthy and Scaddie had taken everyone involved to the Ministry (the unfortunate werewolf had immediately been dumped in a holding cell in stupefied condition) to sort things out.

Lamia had actually received a compliment for her vigilance, even though the danger had come from the wrong person. The three werewolf catchers seemed to think her behaviour towards her husband and her daughter was exemplary, except that she ought to have used a little more force to prevent the girl from going out that night. Eunice, on the other hand, was so furious at her mother for keeping the truth from her all those years that she had refused to return home. To judge by her expression, Lamia had realised that her werewolf-hate could very well have cost her daughter. She had left shortly afterwards, her head down.

Surprisingly, Eunice was less angry with her father, though she was relieved enough that his desperate plan had failed. Remus had inconspicuously handed her his Werewolf Support Service card, whispering to her that it might come in handy when her father was put on trial - which was inevitable, unfortunately. Even though transformed werewolves were no longer held fully accountable for their actions, it was only too obvious that Eunice's father had deliberately placed himself close to his intended victim. Remus doubted he could do much to spare him a lengthy in Azkaban, though he would do his best.

Eunice had thanked him all the same but declined his offer of hospitality for the night. Instead, she had left together with Rory, whose memory was still intact thanks to Harry.

'I trust the Whitakers will put her in their guestroom,' Remus finished his account.

Though Andromeda doubted this would have the desired effect, she refrained from commenting. 'And you?' she asked, putting his dinner before him. 'Did they realise what you were up to?'

'Up to?' Remus asked innocently. 'I solemnly swear I was just an innocent passer-by, though Harry seemed to think I was engaging in a bit of old-fashioned Marauding.' He spread his hands. 'Alas, my memory fails me on that count.'

Andromeda chuckled. She loved it when his eyes twinkled like that. 'But didn't they make life difficult for you?' she wanted to know. 'You're still officially registered as a Dark Creature.'

They had certainly wanted to, Remus admitted between mouthfuls of food, but they hadn't been able to deny he looked like a human, spoke like a human and acted like a human despite the fact that the moon couldn't get any fuller. If the only official way he could prove his humanity included taking a potion that would kill him, they could even imagine that he didn't bother. Yet they kept feeling he had transgressed somehow. It was almost better to be an honest monster than to be an anomaly, their faces and voices had suggested.

It wasn't entirely clear what made them relent - Harry's outburst or his own remark that their attempts to use the Killing Curse weren't really in accordance with the latest guidelines concerning excessive violence. Ultimately, though, all three of them had agreed to overlook his shockingly un-creaturelike appearance of tonight. After all, he _had_ helped them to identify the werewolf of Bentley Wood.

'A pity they were so accommodating in the end.' Remus voice was heavy with irony. 'Perhaps I should repeat my performance next month to provoke a trial.'

'And then again, perhaps you should wait. Give the next generation the time to reform the entire legal system first.'

Remus shrugged. 'I suppose I can always applaud them from the afterlife, in case they succeed.'

Andromeda laughed, but then she became grave again. 'One more question, though. The Homorphus charm. Didn't you tell me once that Lockhart had made it up?'

Putting down his cutlery, Remus stared at a point somewhere above her head. 'I used to think he did,' he replied. 'But the description was both intriguing and realistic. As realism never was Lockhart's forte, it occurred to me that he may just have stolen it and Obliviated the originator of the charm. I thought I'd give it a try.'

Andromeda, about to refill his cup, dropped the jar of butterbeer. 'WHAT? You had a werewolf leaping at your throat - and you tried a dubious charm from a Gilderoy Lockhart fable? A charm you'd never used before?'

With a flick of his wand, Remus put and end to the rapid expansion of the wetness on the tablecloth. 'It worked, didn't it?' he said reasonably, righting the almost empty jar. 'It was either that, or Avada Kedavra; nothing else would have worked. And as I didn't think casting the Killing Curse was a good idea, I opted for the Lockhart charm.'

'You risked being bitten again!'

'I'm aware of that.'

'You're infuriating!' With an almost vicious gesture, Andromeda cast a Scourgify, and the butterbeer staining the holly and berry motif vanished. 'The man wanted to bite his own daughter. He _would_ have bitten her, if fate - or whatever it was - had not intervened. If _you_ had not intervened. You didn't know it at the time, but still... he went out during a full moon night, instead of locking himself up somewhere safe. Do you really think he deserved any consideration?'

'It's a moot point, Andromeda.' He caught her angry gaze. 'I'm really not too ethical to use an Unforgivable in a pinch, but Avada Kedavra would have been useless.'

How could he? How could he risk - Then, suddenly it dawned on her. 'It wouldn't have worked, would it?' she said slowly. 'You simply couldn't wish him dead. It would never have worked.'

Remus reached for her left hand, which was clawing at the tablecloth. He stroked it gently, and she felt her fingers relax.

'I'm glad you understand,' he said.

_The End_


End file.
